


Don't Let Me Darken Your Door

by banafofool



Series: Reminder [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek was in the fire, Enjoy friends, M/M, Scars, Short, Touch Starved Derek, a little angsty, but still a little fluffy, delivery boy stiles, enjoy the porn, kind of, there is also porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:30:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banafofool/pseuds/banafofool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years ago, Derek Hale was in the fire that killed his family. He's the only survivor, maimed by scars and memories. So basically, he's become a shut in; never leaving the house. It's a good thing he can have a delivery guy deliver his groceries to his house.<br/>Stiles isn't exactly excited for his new job at the local grocery store, but he's thrown when he finds out that they deliver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just. I don't even know. Title is from Mumford and Sons' Reminder. Also hey! Come talk to me on Tumblr- I'm a loser in need of friends. Also I take prompts if you want.   
> sterekwhateven.tumblr.com

The Monday that Stiles Stilinski starts his job at the grocery store is the day that he meets Derek Hale. You'd think that he might meet him doing something normal for a grocery store; in the check out line, or while he was stocking milk. Instead, he sort-of-meets Derek Hale when he delivers his groceries directly to his very scary, creepy-in-the-woods house. He didn't even know that this was something the grocery store _did_.

But there he is. His (completely unneeded, in his opinion) apron and green polo uniform, currently sitting in his car, staring at the potentially haunted house straight ahead. He was already beginning to resent his job, but he needed the money for his surprisingly expensive online tuition.

He's pulled up essentially in the middle of the wilderness, his jeep chugging along pathetically. His boss didn't even give him _money for gas._ He's feeling an extra sassy retort tomorrow afternoon, maybe something about the guy's wife. _Eh, that's mean, even for him_.

Stiles was utterly lost in his own thoughts, staring straight ahead at the house probably like an insanely creepy creeper. He shakes himself out of it, and grabs the groceries- nothing simple, just some toilet paper, some bananas, and interestingly enough, some fruit loops. Awesome. 

As Stiles walks through the overgrown grass and the fallen crimson leaves he begins to feel a niggling in the back of his mind. It hits him as he scrambled up the steps; Derek Hale. Stiles lets out a shocked, almost silent gasp as he remembers hearing about the fire, back when he was ten or eleven years old. Eight people killed. Derek was inside, but the only survivor. He'd had the house rebuilt a few years later. 

Stiles gulps as he makes it to the door; it's innocent enough, a simple red, slightly faded door.For some reason it reminds him of a home filled with laughter and happiness that he never had, and it makes him ache. Stiles literally shakes his head as if he can fling off the memories.

Strangely enough, there's no door bell, so he goes against all his instincts telling him to attempt to run off the porch (he'd probably fall and die, lets face it) and knocks on the door. 

The response is immediate; there's what sounds like a faint growl, and then a man's voice, _probably Derek's_ , Stiles' mind supplies, calling through the door. 

"Where's the usual delivery girl?" he (Derek?) asks Stiles. Stiles jumps from his thoughts, and steps closer to the door.

"She went to college? Or moved out of state with her boyfriend? One of those. I'm the new guy that replaced her, Stiles, by the way, and I guess I get to bring your stuff now. My boss told me twice a week I think, but-"

Stiles is interrupted again by that growl, and then Derek telling him gruffly to just leave it on the porch. For a brief millisecond, Stiles considers telling him that he can bring it inside, but then he remembers his boss telling him it would probably be a little weird, and to just do whatever Hale wanted. He shrugs as he gently places the bags on the porch just outside the door. 

He's stumbling down the front steps, facing his car when he hears the door open. He swings around, almost kills himself, but he sees a scarred hand grabbing the bags, quick as lightning, and pull it inside. Stiles chuckles lightly, and calls out to the door to have a great day. The door surprisingly has no response. 

On his walk to the car he wonders why Derek stays inside. Then he remembers the scars on the hand that had reached out. Suddenly a different, sadder ache is back, and it doesn't leave Stiles for the rest of the night.

. . .

Stiles works all week, no one mentioning Derek to him at all. His boss didn't even ask him how it went, just gave him a patented stalker smile and a lingering pat on the back. Gross. It isn't even until Thursday that Stiles' boss decides to tell him that from now on, every Monday and Friday Stiles will have to bring Derek his groceries. Awesome. 

So next Friday, Stiles walks into the store with a smile on his face, sees his boss, and leaves with a scornful frown ten minutes later, Hale's bags in hand. It's not that he doesn't want to go - his boss is just an asshole. Stiles makes it a point to do the do and count to ten, let his anger go, all the yoga crap, as he gets into his car. The drive out to the Hale house is spent bobbing his head to Mumford & Sons and beating his fingers out of tune to the songs. 

Stiles pulls up, the Jeep still, he repeats, _still_ working, totally chugging along. Unfazed by the original creepiness, he actually begins to see how beautiful the place is. The original fireplace still stands, slightly blackened along the edges, but the rest of the house is brand new looking- simple yellow paint covering the outside, trees framing the property. The leaves are turning crimson and burnt orange, falling to the ground every once in awhile, tangling with the tall grass. 

The ache is beginning again, so Stiles moves on. He walks up to the front door, ignoring the faint sting and pull in the back of his eyes and throat, trying to force the knowledge away that he had lost something too. Not as much as Derek, surely, but his mom had been his world. 

Reaching the front door, Stiles knocks softly, somehow instinctively knowing Derek will be near. He waits for a second, hears Derek's footsteps and then lightly puts the groceries down on the porch.

Once he turns and makes it down the steps, he hears the door open. Without turning around, he calls out, still walking to his car, "Have a nice day, Derek!"

Stiles can't help but smirk when he hears the rustling of the plastic bags freeze for a moment, before quickening and then the door shutting with a resounding thud. 

. . .

They go on like this for months; Stiles dropping off the groceries, letting Derek wait until he's down the steps, then telling him to have a good day. Stiles is content with it, never once unnerved again like that first time. In fact, he kind of wishes he could talk to Derek, get to know him. He tells himself that he just doesn't want to go back to work. Everything is a routine. Every Monday and Friday Stiles is there, and Derek is there, lightly saying hi back when Stiles gets to the door. Just work.

. . . 

On a cold, December morning Stiles gets a call from work. It's Saturday, his day off, so naturally he's slightly confused when they ask him to come in, saying he doesn't need to bother getting into his uniform. Once he gets there, he's suddenly beyond confused when they tell him that he needs to drop off some eggs at Derek's. He hurries, speeding most of the way there since it's all back roads, and makes it to Derek's a little quicker than usual. 

The house comes into view. and everything is as usual. Now bare trees, more fallen leaves, tall grass. All is normal. Until he makes it up to the door. Stiles leaves the bag, a note with "fra-gee-ley" written on it that Stiles couldn't help leaving when he hears it. The growl from the very first time he was here, only this time behind him, and much much clearer without a door blocking the noise.

Stiles rotates slowly, stilling as he comes face to face with what has got to be a wolf. Normally Stiles would say dog- it's not a normal dog wolf, jet black with kind eyes, but it's gigantic, it's head up to Stiles' chest. _Has to be a wolf._

Stiles can feel his heartbeat pick up, panic building in his chest like he might hyperventilate, but then the beast tilts his head to the side and whines softly. The wolf comes forward slowly, almost like he's giving Stiles time to react, before he's very tamely breathing out slowly on Stiles' chest. It's got to be deliberate; the wolf looking into his eyes, almost searching, before he leans farther and playfully nuzzles where Stiles' neck and shoulder meet. Stiles can't contain his soft laugh as the wolf's fur tickles his neck. The wolf pulls back and drops his jaw, panting, almost like he's grinning.

Very carefully, showing what he's planning so as not to startle the beast, Stiles raises his hand and pets through the fur of the wolf's ears. A noise like a satisfied purr echoes out of the mouth of the beast, making Stiles huff lightly at the absurdity of it; a wolf purring as Stiles pets it in front of Derek Hale's house. Time passes around them as they stand there, examining each other as if they'd been friends for ages, Stiles fully petting the wolf now, and the wolf panting all over him. 

The wolf pulls back slightly and feints getting down on his front legs. _He wants to play_ , Stiles thinks incredulously. Stiles looks back at the house, then at the wolf. The wolf gives him an especially encouraging nuzzle, and the next thing he knows, Stiles is chasing a wolf. _In Derek Hale's yard._

Stiles realizes how long he must've been there when they finally rest; he sees the sun edging towards the middle of the sky-he'd left at probably nine in the morning, and it was edging closer to the afternoon. He looks at the wolf apologetically saying loudly, "Sorry buddy, I've gotta go. I've been standing in Derek's yard for like two hours- he's gonna think I'm a creep. Maybe I'll see you next time, huh?" 

The wolf looks remarkably surprised and then slightly understanding. As if he knows. Stiles gives him one last pat on the head before he slowly jogs to his car. He only trips twice, once on his own feet and once on a rock. Progress. 

He gets to the car, and as he pulls out and away from Derek's house he sees he wolf sitting on the porch, staring at him go with that almost grin on it's face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright so fun story, I typed this in word then copy and pasted so THERE ARE PROBABLY MANY TYPOS, PLEASE DO NOT HATE ME. Also, this chapter is a bit sad, but keep in mind this story has a happy ending, probably in the next chapter.

Stiles goes home from seeing the wolf that Saturday mentally calling the wolf Wolfy in his head. He believes It to be  a name fit for any self respecting wolf such as Wolfy.  He spends the rest of the day with Scott; watching movies, playing video games, and eating an obscene amount of junk food. Stiles' dad is working a double late shift, once again putting the familiar ache back in Stiles' chest where it seemingly belongs. Scott sleeps over though, making sure to keep Stiles occupied and happy.

Sunday is spent pretty close to the same, only Scott goes home early because his mom has a thing for Sunday dinner, and Stiles does not. He's pigged out on enough junk food to feed a small army of obese children, so he blows off dinner for all the work for his online college classes that he's been avoiding. He falls asleep around one, hearing his dad get home and tiredly stumble up the stairs. 

The next morning is a Monday, so Stiles walks into work ready to leave right after. Instead of the usual though, his boss tells him to just leave a little earlier and drop off the groceries after he'd clocked out. Stiles doesn't know if he likes this or not, but he doesn't really care at this point, more focused on getting to see Wolfy again than anything. 

The work day passes by slowly, dragging so much that Stiles has come up with plans to gain access to the balloons and try to get a helium high. Before he can implement his genius though, his boss orders him to just go ahead and go. Not wanting to say anything to remind his boss that he's got another hour, Stiles sneaks out with Derek's groceries as quick as he can. 

He gets out of the car, forcing his small feeling of disappointment that Wolfy is no where in sight, then snarks at himself mentally for thinking a wolf would know he was coming. Stiles walks up to the door, wondering to himself if he could just work for Derek. Get his groceries, wash his car (has a car?), maybe cut the grass. Anything to get away from that damn grocery store. A customer argued with him over soup a week ago, and the worst part is he argued back. Passionately. He’s debating when exactly he became invested in soup, when he actually hears a knock on the door _from the other side_. Stiles’ head swings to the both sides, checking for prank cameras or something. Swiveling back to face the door, he quirks an eyebrow, settling on his theory that he walked into a parallel universe where _he_ was Derek Hale.  

The theory is crushed though, when he hears Derek’s voice. “Are you just going to stand there, Stiles?”

Thoroughly shocked that Derek remembers his name, Sitles is quick to shove the words out, but it all comes up as a mesh of _parallel worlds and prank doors._

He hears a soft chuckle from the otherside, and then something lightly hitting the door and sliding down.  _Whoa_ , Stiles realizes that Derek Hale just sat down on the other side of this door. _Like maybe he might want to talk to Stiles.  
_

Knowing very well the rule about asses and assuming, Sitles begins to ask, “Uh, Derek? Do you want me to go? Leave the groceries? Spontaneoulsy combus-“

“Stiles? Do you think we could just talk for a while? Is that okay?” Derek’s voice started out exasperateded, but got very small very quick. 

Instantly the thoughts _Oh god, Derek should never sound so small and defeated God, stiles talk to him,_ flashes through Stiles’ mind, and he immediately sits down before he can think further about the situation. 

Stiles waits for Derek to say whatever he thought worthy of saying today, but he’s quiet. Stiles figures that he either got up and walked away, probably shaking his head at Stiles’ awkwardness, or maybe Derek is just as lost in this as Stiles is. 

He’s quick to rectify the silence, "So. Um, I dont know if there’s anything that you want to talk about in particular, but I’ve actually wanted to talk to you for a while. Is that weird? That feels weird to finally say out loud." 

Stiles waits, mentally counting the seconds going by. It takes exactly thirty two for Stiles to hate the silence again so he just begins talking.

“So Um I'll just talk which is fine. I have attention issues so just letting me talk is usually the way to go. Uh. Ooh so I've been thinking about like old sayings lately, and did you know that the saying “curiosity killed the cat” is actually not quite right? Now this may be a lie that someone told me to crush my dreams, but I think the full quote is “ curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.”And I think that if it's true, that basically some housewife somewhere got bored and didn't like her kids being curious, so to crush their dreams of wonder, she told them only the first half. That they will inevitably die if they are too curious. I think thats bullshit like wow, bitch, but you know I might be completely wrong so….” 

Stiles drifts off, lost in his own thoughts, going through each step, and is brought out of it when he hears laughng. No he’s not hallucinating, Derk Hale is laughing at him. 

Pretending to be completely insulted, Stiles quickly speaks up, “Derek Hale are you laughing at me and _my theories_? This could completely change life as we know it, don't you know how serious this is, you heathen.” 

He lets pretend awe at Dereks insolence sink into his voice, but he’s actually smiling so hard it hurts all of his face. He wants to fucking punch the air in pure victory, happy to have made Derek laugh. 

He’s chuckling himself when Derek forces his laughter down, talking to stiles with amusement coloring his voice, “It’s just, you’re funny stiles. You're one of the only people I've talked to, and the first thing you say to me is that some mom in history was a total bitch for squashing her kids curiouslity.” 

They go on like that for hours, the late afternoon sunlight fading into complete darkness, the sky a now deep dark blue. The moon is providing the only light, almost half full by now, and Stiles can see all the things illuminated by it. All of that is background compared to Derek though. 

The guy's _actually funny_ , and has a good sense of humor, unafraid to laugh at stiles’ jokes and awkwardness. At one point the conversation got deadly serious; the subject of favorite superheroes came up. Stiles sticks to his love of Iron Man, and Derek loyally claims Black Panther as his favorite, expressing anger that he doesn't have a movie yet. 

Derek must notice at some point that stiles has stayed well into the night. Laughter fading from his voice, he asks somberly, “Uh, I’m not going to get you fired, am I? You've been here for a while. I can call and tell them-“

“thats fine. they let me go early actually to drop off your stuff, which by the way _I still have_. We're all good.” Stiels says, almost proud for being the one to interrupt this time. 

Stiles hears derek stand up through the door and he does too. Leaving the groceries on the porch like always, they say their goodbyes, Stiles promising that hell stay again next time too. 

As he's walking back to the car, Stiles hears the door open, but it stays open longer than usual. He can feel Derek’s eyes burning into the back of his body, but he keeps walking, smiling to himself all the way. 

. . . .

The next friday all they talk about is what they believed when they were little; Stiles one hundred invested in the idea of ice cream clouds and a cheese moon, Derek staying strong with his antarctica theory for ice cream, and a chalk moon. The debate is heated and filled with laugher, and lots of blushing, at least on Stiles’ side of the door. 

But they have moments of silence too; nothing too awkward, but silent, peaceful moments, when they just sit _together._  These are the soft, sweet moments where Stiles can feel himself needing Derek. Falling. 

As it gets later and later, Stiles ends up telling Derek about Wolfy, “and he was huge, and like soft, and awesome. Is he yours? Have you seen him around?”

For a second there’s complete silence, and then the silent bubble is burst when derek chuckles lightly on the other side. He tells stiles not to worry about it, that the wolf had been a pesky free loader for years. 

Stiles laughs to his car, blush having not faded the least bit in the last couple of hours.

. . . .

Weeks pass, the two of them being stupid and funny to themselves together. They talk about anything and everything; one day the subject is baseball, another day favorite animals, one day of silence and enjoying each other's presence. 

Stiles begin to feel like he's part of two worlds; the one with Derek Hale, and the one without. 

Scott asks what makes Stiles so happy, and he responds with his paycheck. Stiles dad doesn't notice; too busy burying the still remaining grief in his work. And the ache in Stiles chest is almost permanently gone, only comig back on the worst days when he finds himself missing Derek and his mom. For the first time, not just his mom, which makes him fear everything while loving it at the same time. 

He asks his boss if he can bring Derek’s stuff more than twice a week, and his boss, for once, relents and gives Stiles what he wants. He really hopes it wanst the intense burning in his cheeks or hopeful tone that gave everything away.

. . . .

It's a freezing afternoon in late January when Stiles is hit with the realization that there are two sides to this; his side of the door, and the Other Side. Derek’s Side. That’s when he decides that he can be brave or potentially, horribly rude for one second. 

“Hey, Der? Uh, I'm gonna ask you something, and you totally don't have to answer its just that I kind of like talking to you, and I was wondering why you dont come outside, or let me in? Hell, make me stand on the porch with the door open?”

The silence could be sliced in half with a dull butter knife at this point. Stiles is about to say don't worry about it, please don't hate me, when Derek’s voice just barely filters through the door. So quiet that stiles has to strain to hear him, Derek tells Stiles why he doesn leave. About the fire. 

“It was my fault. I thought that I could trust this person, and she burned my life down. I was there, in the house. I have- I have scars. All over, form the fire. I look like a monster. I am a monster.” Stiles can feel his heart breaking, can hear the broken, flat tone of Derek’s voice. The way it wavered slightly during his story. 

His voice comes out scratchy and hollow, but Stiles manages to say, “You are not a monster. It is not your fault, and I understand that you need this, you need to stay hidden, but just know that I- I’m here. Whenever you need me.” 

The rest of the night is spent in silence, one of those peaceful ones, except in this one they're both trying to ignore the sniffling going on on both sides. 

. . . 

The next Thursday is the anniversary of Stiles' mother’s death. He wakes up not being able to breathe, sobs racking his body as he _feels_ it, the pull of her not being there when he pushes. It _hurts_ and ache isn't a big enough word for it all. 

But Stiles has been done with taking off the day and crying and panicking and not breathing in his room for years; and since high school is done, this year he goes to work. 

Everyone stays away, sensing that today is not the day, and Stiles is about to leave when his boss asks quietly if he is up to bringing Derek’s stuff. For a brief second he's angry at the softness, the pity in his voice, but it fade as he thinks more. He decides on the drive to Derek’s that he’s happy with people treating him differently today, because the world is different without his mom. 

He gets to Dereks, walking straight up to the house, tears finally breaking free and falling onto his cheeks and down to his chin. Derek is sitting on the Other Side when Stiles gets there, Stiles can hear Derek humming softly. 

Stiles collapses against the door, letting out the sobs he had kept in, worse than this morning, because he can see, he sees the house where a family was, knows that he never had that, knows that Derek had that and then it was torn from him viciously. 

It hurts, the ache a constant pain in his chest, his mind. He begins to talk, needing to say something because today is different, everything is dfferent, this can't be just another normal peaceful day. 

“I was there. In the hospital when she went, I was holding her hand, I felt the life leave her. My mom left me, but she was still there but it wasn't _her_. Derek, it hurts, I hate this I hate being here when she isn’t, where do they go? Where did your family go, where did mine?’’

The words are tumbling and stumbling out of his mouth the way stiles would stumble down the stairs. He hears Derek shushing him softly, cooing gently through the door. And he's suddenly angry. So, so angry. 

“Derek, I know you need this, but please, please look at me. Please let me see you!” And the worst part is, it isn't even about seeing him, Stiles just needs something to be real, to be with him, and when he hears the soft whine of Stiles from the Other Side, he knows, he knows that derek won't or can't open the fcucking door. 

Stiles is still crying when he reaches his car and drives home. He’s still crying later that night when he hears his dad come home, and he's still crying when he goes downstairs, and they cry together. 

. . . 

The next day, Stiles goes to work with his fakest, brightest smile pinned up on  his face, lets the world drift by him in various blurs of people and shapes. His boss pulls him into his office towards the end of his shift, tells him that Derek needed something. Bitterly, Stiles thinks that he needed something too, and tells his boss to send someone else, that he needs to get home. 

He walks out before a response can come, and heads straight home, locking himself in his room immediately. The ache grows and grows until Stiles is on the floor holding his arms snugly around his own waist, trying to breathe, needing to breathe, please. He's begging and crying out, needing the pain to stop. Needing Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm going to add one more chapter, either tonight or tomorrow. hope you liked it! also, fun story, when I typed this I had all the stuff I was going to italicize in CAPS so just read through this again picturing it in all caps. fun stuff.


	3. Chapter 3

The next week at work, Stiles decides that just maybe he needs to grow up a little bit. He understands that Derek had issues, Hell, his had obviously shown through a bit. So when his boss asks if he can take the groceries to Derek, Stiles immediately agrees, clocking out and grabbing the groceries. Still just simple toilet paper, and fruit loops. 

Stiles walks out to the parking lot, taking off his apron as he goes, hastily throwing it into his car. He feels slightly freer without that evil restraint. The drive is spent with Stiles going through various apologies, asking if he can hug the door, and whatnot. He needs Derek, loves that they’re friends. Wants him in his life, any way he can get him.

Stiles is blown away when he pulls up to Derek’s house to find that it was clean, but like outside clean. The lawn had been mowed, the leaves raked out of sight from the house all the way to the tree line. It looked better, but despite that, the fact that it was so put together pulled Stiles apart a little bit. However, before the ache could start again, Stiles saw something that made him drop the groceries, the fruit loops spilling onto the ground in a mockery of this serious moment. 

Someone who had to be Derek was standing on the porch, calmly looking back at Stiles as he stared. Then Stiles was sprinting across the yard, dodging scattered trees and rocks as he went. Derek met him half way, pulling Stiles into the tightest (best) hug he’d ever had. 

Stiles tries to pull back so he can talk facing Derek, but Derek just whines softly and pulls Stiles in tighter. Stiles huffs, pretending to be annoyed, but on the inside he’s preening, needing the affection. 

Derek buries his nose in Stiles’ shoulder, and when Stiles does the same Derek gasps softly. 

“Der… You didn't have to do this. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I am so, so, excited to see you.. to meet you. But I came here to apologize. And to bring those fruit loops that are spilled on the ground right now,” Stiles whispers softly into Derek’s neck. 

Derek chuckles from his place at Stiles’ neck, but still doesn't pull back. At first Stiles knows that they missed each other, but he can feel Derek hiding himself; not wanting Stiles to see his marred body.

It almost reminded Stiles of meeting Wolfy; Derek was simply breathing him in, they were breathing each other in, relearning everything that they never knew. 

Soon Stiles pulls back, slowly and deliberately. Derek relents, letting them be pulled apart. 

That’s when Stiles finally notices the scars. He can see where the fire licked up Derek’s body; the flame imprints deep on his neck, marking the skin of his forearms where his Henley sleeves are pushed up now. He finally makes it to Derek’s face, and he can’t help the gasp the breaks from his mouth. His face shows the most vivid details; direct lines of licks of fire show, just barely wrinkling the skin slightly on his jaw line, most of it covered by a thin beard. There’s a small slash in one of his (very, extremely, intense) eyebrows. Right where the fire just barely missed his eye and hit his cheek and brow instead. 

Derek closes his eyes and breathes out purposely slowly as Stiles traces the eyebrow with the tip of his thumb. 

“Definitely not a monster,” Stiles says, almost absentmindedly. 

Derek’s eyes fly wide open, looking at him in awe. Stiles explains quietly, “Monsters do not eat as many fruit loops as you do.” Derek looks at him for a second, disbelief coloring his features, before he breaks out in a roar of laughter. Whether it’s because of the nervousness or actual humor in the situation, Stiles finds himself laughing unrestrained. But he needs to know that Derek knows.

“Okay, loops aside, Derek…. You’re not a monster. I could never need a monster as much as I need you.” Suddenly restless, Stiles realizes that he just took a huge risk; Derek may not feel the same way, could just need a friend…

All of those thoughts are put on hold as Derek’s smile shrinks into a smaller, private one, that makes Stiles’ heart ache in a good, sickeningly sweet way. 

They both lean at the same time, drawing the other into a messy, heated kiss that makes Stiles’ knees feel weak and his heart hammer hard in his chest. They kiss and kiss, becoming more heated, filthier kisses that leave them both breathless with kiss swollen lips.

Derek pulls back, searching Stiles’ face, and Stile just knows that Derek is about to ask if this is okay, if it’s too much. Stiles just leans in, forcefully bringing their lips back together, because it’s not enough, Stiles could never get enough from Derek. 

But sadly, Derek does pull away, and looks at Stiles with vulnerable eyes. “So, you’re okay with….me? What I look like” Again, Derek is sounding so broken, so small, that Stiles feels the inane need to comfort him. 

“Derek. It is very, very possible that I’m in love you. Please believe me; you- you’re perfect. You may have scars, but lets face it, those muscles? That stubble? How could I resist?” Seeing the blush spread from Derek’s cheeks down his neck truly may be the best moment of Stiles’ life. But for once, he needs to be serious, “But Derek, for real. You’re the single most amazing person I’ve ever met. And I’m sorry that I left like that, before.”

Derek looks at him, seemingly confused, before he says quietly, “You have no idea how sorry I am. Stiles, even if I didn't look like this, I still don't deserve you- I should have taken care of you, kept you safe, fixed things. I- I’m so sorry, and I’m selfish, I still need you, please forgiv-“

Stiles cuts him off with a quick, chaste kiss. Pulling back, he looks into Derek’s eyes, “Derek, we both made mistakes. Please just know that I love you, and I want to do this right; we can take it slow if you want.” 

 . . . 

Things return to how they were before; except now they sit together on the porch swing, talking and holding hands, each one gently cradling the other. 

Stiles still brings groceries every once and a while, meeting Derek outside with a smirk on his face every time. 

It’s on a day like that when Stiles is carrying in groceries when Derek comes up from behind him, and Stiles feels his arms meet around his waist. 

“You know, for a second on my way here I thought that maybe I had brought the wrong bag,” Stiles say quietly, a coy tone to his voice. 

“Oh?” Derek asks, biting down the column of Stiles neck as Stiles tilts his head back against Derek’s shoulder. 

“There’s just this one extra thing in here that I thought-“ Stiles gasps at a well placed nip- “I thought was accidentally placed here.”

He reaches into the grocery bag, pulling out the small bottle of lube that Stiles had been pleasantly surprised to find in the bag. 

The next thing he knows, they’re kissing. Their tongues tangle together, a filthy entanglement of their need and helplessness for each other. Derek pulls away, probably to ask again, is this okay, are you sure, the lube was mostly the question that I’m too passive aggressive to ask properly. 

Stiles swoops in, kissing him hard and sound, bringing them back together. 

Derek must understand because when he pulls away the next time, pulling Stiles into the bedroom; Stiles can’t focus too well though, only feeling, only knowing Derek and the soft, needy kisses and nips exchanged between them 

Stiles is next being pushed down, onto a soft, easily accepting bed. It smells strongly of Derek, sweet musk and spice. Stiles moans as he's swallowed by it all. 

Derek reaches down, pulls up and off Stiles’ shirt, catching his thumbs along Stiles’ already hard and desperate nipples. Stiles releases a whine, feeling the muscles of his hips flexing, pushing them into the air. “Please… Derek…” 

Derek kisses him quiet, and pulls off his own shirt and pants, leaving him in only an obscenely tight pair of black briefs. Stiles feels his eyes widen at the view, cock already letting out a droplet of precum. 

Stiles rushes, grabbing a hold of his own pants, attempting to viciously tug them off as quick as possible. Derek catches his hands, placing them up above Stiles’ head on top of the bed. Derek then leans down, leaves sweet, loving kisses across Stiles’ neck and chest. He simultaneously tugging off Stiles’ pants for him, as he sinks his blunt teeth into the meat of Stiles’ neck. 

“Oh, please, Derek,” Stiles whines, letting out a high pitched keen as Derek’s roughly calloused hand also finds it’s way into Stiles’ briefs. Stiles looks down- the sight of the scarred, still beautiful hand stroking him almost too much. He throws his head back, needing to look away. Derek continues stroking, murmuring things softly to Stiles, "You have no idea- no idea. You're so beautiful Stiles, all mine, perfect and sweet. I needed you so bad. Still need you." Stiles arches at the words, and soon they're both naked. Derek continues tugging Stiles’ cock for all it’s worth, letting the moans and whimpers Stiles is letting out guide him.

“Der, Derek please, I’m gonna- gonna come,” the very last word is a drawn out, high pitched whine as Derek kisses Stiles neck while twisting his hand on an upstroke, pushing him over the edge. Derek pumps him through it, letting out his own quiet groan as Stiles feebly grabs for Derek’s cock when he’s finished.

Derek pushes him away, fighting his own pleasure in favor of grabbing the lube that had been brought in and left beside them. 

Derek brings a lubed up finger to Stiles’ hole, easily pushing  it inside, giving a smirk to Stiles that says _I know what you did last night_. Stiles just smiles back down, and then gasps and rolls his hips onto the finger. Derek pushes in another, pressing them in and up, right against Stiles’ sweet spot, forcing a scream of pleasure from Stiles’ kiss-swollen mouth. 

“Please, please, Derek…” Stiles is beginning to beg, his hips quivering in the air as he’s pushed just to the edge of another climax. Derek pushes in, claiming Stiles with a soft cry. Stiles cries out too, feeling completely full; finally getting what he needs.

 The thrusts are wild and uncontrolled, both of them already too close to bother going slow. Stiles leans up and bites Derek’s neck, close but not quite touching the scars. The room fills with the smell of lube and sex- sweat mixes on Stiles' chest, harsh pants and whines filling the air. He reaches up and strokes a finger softly over that eyebrow, the one with the scar dividing it, a soft, open mouthed smile shaping his mouth as he pants and gasps.

Stiles arches his back and bears his neck when Derek shifts slightly and hits his sweet spot dead on. The thrusts devolve more, forced, relentless rutting as Stiles rises to meet every thrust. Stiles pulls Derek down, pushing his face into his own neck, letting Derek leave a hickey the size of mars on his neck.

Derek roars in complete pleasure, coming and pumping it all into Stiles’ needy hole. Stiles whines at the feel of it, feeling himself fall over the edge, and down into an abyss of pleasure. They both scream each other’s names as the come, helplessly slowing down the circling of their hips as the pleasure spikes into sensitivity. 

. . .

What was certainly minutes but felt like hours later, they’re both on their sides, looking deeply into each other’s eyes, memorizing every detail of the other. Stiles is taking in Derek’s body, memorizing the shape and flow of the scars. 

Derek finally speaks up softly, breaking the blissful post-coital glow with soft words. “I should've died you know, in the fire. But I didn't because, well I got out first, and well, I’m- I. I love you too, Stiles, and that’s why I need to tell you. I’m- I’m not like you. Please hear me out, but I’m a.. werewolf.”

Stiles feels himself gaping before he laughs softly. When Derek doesn't laugh, Stiles chuckles a little harder, “No way. Prove it and I wont get up and leave.” 

Derek quirks an eyebrow, feels the shift of bones, the unnatural sinking and reshaping of his entire being, pulling at the scars.  When he opens his eyes again, Stiles is looking at him with narrowed eyes. 

The only thing Stiles says is, “Oh my god, this entire time I believed that Wolfy had been avoiding me. This whole time you could be this ball of fluff? This is awesome Derek!” 

Derek shifts back, feeling disbelief polluting his face along with all those scars. Stiles just smiles at him and brushes the hair away from Derek’s less marked forehead. Derek smiles in relief, but he has more to say, “It’s my fault they died.  I was dating this older women. She made me think- Just it urns out she was a hunter, and she broke in when I wasn't supposed to be home. I got out of the fire first, but she used a spell and wolfsbane- it’s why I’m covered in these scars.” Stiles shifts, making a grab for Derek but Derek leans back, “There’s more. You know what I am, know that I called you that day with those stupid eggs- my wolf needed to meet you because I think you may be my mate.” 

This time Stiles pulls back, looking at him in disbelief. “That’s a thing?” he asks, soft but calm.

Derek looks at him feeling panic grow in his chest, “Yeah, it’s a thing. And you’re kind of that thing for me. But werewolves mate for life- we’ll officially be mates if I- if I knot you.”

Stiles looks at him, probably calculating every single outcome of this conversation before asking quietly, “Do you want that? I mean, I can definitely get on board. I’ve never once joked about how I feel- I love you Derek, and I may be yours, but you're mine too.”

Derek looks at him, love and reverence and plain joy in his eyes. Stiles smiles back, hoping that his expression can mirror Derek’s to show how he feels. 

They roll together, until Derek is lightly cradling Stiles in his arms, both of them cuddling like soft woodland creatures (ha). Stiles of course, adds to the moment by whispering softly against Derek’s scarred hand, “I’m happy that I had the balls to make it up to your door on that first day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is it. I think. I may add an epilogue or something, just depends on how much crap is going on in my life. Hope you enjoyed, and sorry for any typos!


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is that how you spell Epilogue.

Hours after they had been completely mates, one hundred percent for really, like wow I can't believe that knot fit into my ass, complete, Stiles' boss showed up at the house. Not only did he show up, but he walked in completely calm, like he lived here. Derek stared at Stiles staring at his boss, who was staring at the coffee maker as he made some. Derek seemed to put together the pieces, something he said they could do for each other because of the mate bond, an introduced Stiles to Stiles' boss. Peter Hale.

Apparently Peter had been left for dead, but was also of the werewolfie persuasion and had healed. No scars though, unlike Derek who couldn't heal properly. Trippy.

They move on quickly, Stiles eagerly avoiding Peter with all the effort he could put into anything after all the very interesting werewolf sex he'd been having. Although, Peter can probably smell it on them if the way his nose and eyebrow quirk are anything to go by. 

"I want to let you know, you won't be getting a raise just because you're part of the family now."

Stiles gets up from the table as Derek groans into his hands.

. . . . 

Years later, Stiles has finally got Derek adjusted to real life- being around people who may double take when they first see Derek, and just being around people in general. It took months after they were mated, but Stiles finally got Derek to leave the house to bring him to work. He owed him a week of blow jobs for that. Totally worth it.

They had a baby now, not in the fanfic internet porn way; Stiles still can't get pregnant. They adopted two werewolf babies from a surprising well kept underground werewolf network. All very top secret and cool in Stiles' opinion. They were twins and they were perfect. They named the oldest (by two minutes she ensures we add) Talia, and the youngest little wolf Claudia. They have a life now, together in every way. Stiles couldn't ask for more. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello yes, if you made it this far um, very very very un-spell checked, honestly there are so many mistakes, sorry. Hope you enjoyed at least a little! more chapters to come.


End file.
